Let me preface this post with a disclaimer or at least some weasel words. In my INTJ/ISTJ (system building/over-developed sense of responsibility) way, I am normally punctilious about returning my supermarket trolley to the official designated trolley collection area. Furthermore, occasionally I have been known to glare meaningfully if not actually say something to those with a more cavalier approach. But never have I been driven to be a complete jerk. Well, you can probably see where this is going…
Yesterday was a very long day for a would-be aunt. Out the door soon after 6am to catch a train into the city to meet the delightful Miss Maggie from Nu Zild with her [toy] dog Patches. As this would be their only time in the city, we hiked all over to see the sights: the stained glass windows and tiles of the Queen Victoria Building; the Opera House; the Harbour Bridge; the grandeur of old sandstone buildings and so on. Our train ride home came to an abrupt stop for several hours at Hornsby as both the train line and the roads out of the city were closed by bushfires. We spent some time window shopping (nothing like a 10 year old with holiday money burning a hole in her pocket) and then escaped to airconditioned comfort of the movies to see Night at the Museum. Eventually we made it back to my car at Gosford station but then we had to do some shopping. We had left the city before noon and it was now 6.30pm
Maggie, who had been up since before 2am Sydney time, was fading fast and we still had to get home and cook dinner. Naturally, we had managed to nab the trolley with the dodgy wheels and the trolley return area was 50 metres and three speed bumps away. Against this background, I took the easy way out and nudged my trolley into another errant trolley that was occupying a vacant car space immediately opposite the car. Within seconds I received an ear bashing from not one but two 20-something surfer dudes – since when did they become so self-righteous? aren’t they meant to chill out? I hopped into my car, looked into my rear view mirror to back out and saw one of the guys deliberately moving the trolley up to my boot so I couldn’t move. What a jerk!
OK – now I’ve got that off my chest, I promise to revert to shorter posts…
paula says
and then what did you do?
Brenda says
Well I got out and moved the trolley back to when I had put it. A robust discussion ensued and I managed to drive off, albeit fuming.
Alison Parry says
Well Brenda….after your confesssions I see you in a completely new light.
Sock it to them dear.
Myki says
I call these carts with attitudes,differcult to handle in store,impossible outside.His actions should be reported ,as he is representing the store and to provide customer service .A minute earlier and he could have HELPED you load your bags.What is needed is better maintanence of the carts,not confrontation by someone who is paid less per hour than the amount in 1 of your bags.
Brenda says
It is very kind of Myki to think so charitably of me. However, the two people who called me up on my aberrant trolley behaviour were other customers, NOT supermarket employees. I should add that, since this encounter, I have reverted to my goody two shoes mode and put my trolley away in the correct place…